Incandescence

25: Leap of Faith

"I must be dreaming. I'm still asleep and I haven't clicked on yet. It can't really be April Sinclair talking to me right now."

           "It's me," I say.

           "So you've not been shipped off to boot camp in France? Then why the hell haven't you called before now, woman?"

           I smile and laugh a little at Liv's attempt at lightening the mood. I can see her now, so vivid, almost as though she's in the room with me: short red hair sticking out in all directions like she's just woken up – which she probably has – still dressed in her PJs as she tucks into a vegetarian breakfast in the ASA cafeteria. But it's hard to imagine where she'll be sitting, now that Peter and I are gone. Now that Alice, Lena, Kale, and so many others have been taken away after the disaster of Miss Hudson's 'suicide.' Will Liv be with some of the other students from her classes who she talks to? Or all alone, in the corner of the room, avoiding the inquisitive stares of the remaining school populace, who still deem her as The Grieving Girl, like they're contagious to look at?

           "How're things at Destination Doom?" I ask, hoping she won't confirm the latter.

           "Bad. Worse. Downright awful. Take your pick," she says. "About a third of the school's left with their parents since Thursday night – and the teachers are doing nothing. Nothing. Seriously, I've been holed up in my room all weekend with my thumb in my mouth and a duvet round my shoulders and no one seems to have noticed yet. It's ridiculous!" 

           Not what I want to hear, but sort of what I was expecting. Sighing, I cross my room and perch at the edge of the window ledge, balancing the phone between the side of my head and shoulder as I dig into my bag of Cheetos. On the other end of the phone, Liv continues to talk about the disarray of the school and how her parents are going to pick her up the moment they're back in town – of course, just like Mason told me last night . . .

           Mason says a lot of things. Doesn't mean they're always true.

           I shake this thought off, banishing it to a locked drawer in the recesses of my mind and throwing away the key.

           "I'm gonna celebrate by dying my hair again," Liv declares, her voice jerking me back to the present.

           "What colour this time?" I ask, glancing out the window. A dreary fog looms in the sky outside, casting the street into miserable gloom. It seems almost like the weather this past week has been as unpredictable as Liv's hair shade.

           "Well, I'm thinking either bubble gum pink, smurf blue or lilac – but I'll need a second opinion. A girl's opinion. I asked Peter, right? And you know what he said? 'Is there a difference?' Honestly, guys are good for nothing."

           I laugh, able to picture her dramatic eye roll even without seeing her. She's full of life and enthusiasm, which has me feeling stupid for ever thinking otherwise. The truth is, I called her to check how she was doing. A part of me feared she'd be breaking down after our conversation about Mason the other night and the recent events at school. But Liv's a fighter, the type to take knocks and still get back on her feet like a champion boxer.

           "Hey, speaking of Peter, you heard much from him lately?" I ask. I know I haven't – at least, not since Friday night, when he sent a text to see if I was okay.

           "Sure, his mum's been trying to find a new school for him that suits her high standards," she says, adopting a mock snobbish lilt at the mention of said standards. "That woman's a pain in the ass, and I've only met her once. But Pete's cool, thank God. At least, most of the time he is."